


The Lone Ranger

by Calenhad



Category: Fallout New Vegas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:12:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6153355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calenhad/pseuds/Calenhad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From Nevada and California, The Mojave and New Vegas to the amazing remains of the Zion Canyon. Mason and Boone are sent out to answer a distress call left by Happy Trails Caravan. Answering that distress call was the worst decision they've ever made. Their lives are in the hands of Zion Valley. When one of them is injured, the other is forced to accept the help of strangers and hope they make it out of the Canyon alive.               A fanfic based on Bethesda Softworks and ZeniMax's game, Fallout: New Vegas. I do not own any of the characters besides Mason (& a few tribal folk). I have added some new information and ideas into the world of Fallout: New Vegas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1st Recon Sniper

June 17th, 2281, NCR Embassy, The Strip, New Vegas. 4:39pm

-4:40-

I watch as my Pipboy 3000's digital clock ticked over to 4:40.

I'd been here over an hour, awaiting my orders from Ambassador Crocker, having just been sent from helping out with Camp Searchlight. I'd only just heard of the situation going down in Nelson. My first thought as a human, was to go and kill all those legion fuckers, but my first thought as a NCR Ranger was to do my job, and help out when and where I'm needed. It sucked, but I took a vow to protect and serve the NCR and the people living under the NCR flag. Besides, I wasn't rash like those bloodthirsty Legionaries. I was to await orders from the Ambassador, though why I wasn't sent to Camp McCarran or Camp Forlorn hope, or even Camp Golf straight away, I didn't know. Instead I was sent here, to wait for some guy in a suit to give me orders. They couldn't be too important if I've been kept waiting an hour. The door on my right opened, revealing dirty red carpet and cracked walls. Mr House certainly didn't waste any money on this shit hole. I stood and was greeted by a new recruit, I could practically smell his greenness. "Ambassador Crocker will see you know." he said, puffing out his chest. God. What was it with guys? Wearing the NCR colors and badges made them fell so special, wait til they wear NCR blood.  
I brushed past the recruit who shut the door behind me. What? No directions. I followed the red carpet around the corner and spotted two other recruits standing either side of a door, I guessed that was the Ambassadors Office. I walked closer and one of the recruits opened the door for me and I stepped inside the office, which was in better condition than the rest of the building. A black man stood up and brushed nonexistent fluff and dust from his suit. The name plaque on his desk read 'AMBASSADOR CROCKER.'

He held out his hand. "Welcome to my humble abode, Ranger Mason." he greeted me. Abode? I looked around. _Holy shit, the guy actually lived here,_ I thought as I accepted his hand. "As you've probably already noticed. I live here.... I don't exactly get out much anymore." he gave me a nervous chuckle. "Please, take a seat." I sat down on the old leather chair, which creaked and groaned. "Sorry about that. We've had to rely on generous donations and spare caps to help restore this place.... Mr House doesn't seem to fussed about the state of the building..." he grumbled the last part. I gave a small smile. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward. "I bet your wondering why your here." he said. I shook my head, "Not really Sir, I'm a soldier in the NCR, someone give me an order, I follow it." I said. "Hmm." was all he said. He stood, taking keys from his pocket, unlocked and opened a nearby filing cabinet. He withdrew a few files and sat back down, Crocker flipped through a file before handing it to me, I took it and read the front.

'Craig Boone, First Recon Sniper. Discharged.' it read.

He nodded at the file and sat back in his chair.

I flipped through the file.

"Craig 'Boone' Boone"

BORN: 2255.

RACE: Human, Caucasian.

GENDER: Male

HEIGHT: 6 ft 9 inch

SPOUSE: Carla Boone (deceased)

CHILDREN: Unborn (deceased)

OCCUPATION: Former- NCR 1st Recon Sniper, 1st Recon Sniper Battalion. Sharpshooter. (discharged)

It had a bunch of other information about his time in the NCR, his work with one Manny Vargas. The death of his wife and unborn child. His decision to leave the NCR and a few other bits and pieces.I looked back up at Crocker.

"Sir?" I asked, handing him back the information. He sighed. "We received a distress call from the Northern Passage from a 'Happy Trails Caravan'. Around the same time Nelson was captured. Now, unfortunately, we haven't had any spare soldiers hanging around, and there are still new recruits coming in for training everyday. So we searched for some soldier from other missions, camps and outposts. We saw your name on a list in Camp Searchlight, figured that the Camp was beyond salvage, at least for a while. So we brought you back, to go on any call outs, just the minor stuff." he paused. Wait, instead of sending me out to Novac to help with the Nelson situation, he wanted me to take any call outs, he wanted me, a talented Ranger and devoted NCR soldier, to sit on my ass and wait for any call outs. What. The. Fuck?

"Sir, with all due respect, I think I'd be better off being posted at Novac to help with the Nelson situ-"

"You didn't let me finish." Crocker said, cutting me off. "I know you'd rather take back Nelson, happily killing as many Legionaries as you could get your hands on. But I don't want you recent loss to effect your ability to see reason. We don't want to dive head first into a tricky situation. Understood?" he asked. Crocker was referring to my brother. He'd gone into a raided refugee camp to rescue any survivors, instead the Legionaries caught him and crucified him. I'd been sent in a week later, when it was confirmed the Legion had moved on, so many people had been decapitated and crucified... It was horrible. They didn't let me see his body, they wouldn't. Beck, a fellow Ranger had held me back, which I was extremely grateful for, I didn't want to see my brother like that. I didn't like the Legion then, hated them. Still do. But now, it's personal...

"Understood, sir." I replied.

"Good. Now, as I was saying. We want you to take this call, the first of many. But you won't be doing it alone." he said, tapping the file of Craig Boone. "Ranger Boone has been reinstated and awaiting your arrival. You'll find your new partner at the Gun Runners. There you're to get anything you want, just put in on the NCR tab." he finished, standing. He held his hand out, I shook it again. "Good luck Ranger Mason." he said. I turned on my heel and left. "Oh and Ranger Mason," he called out. I turned to look at him one last time. "I've been told that Boone can be a little....difficult to get along with. Just try to cooperate."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Same day, 5:14pm. Gun Runners, The Strip South Entrance.

I couldn't believe I was doing this, what bullshit! I should be on my way to Novac! Speaking of Novac, that where Boone was spending his spare time, up in the Dino watching over the town. I was told he's one of the best snipers in all of New Vegas and the Mojave, Hell, I think its said he's the best left alive well, besides me though I was younger than him. I was born in 2259, a total of 4 years younger, making me 22 and Boone 26. There was no photo of him, but one of the recruits told me he always wore shades, his 1st Recon beret and a grim expression. Yay, I was partners with Mr Chuckles. As I neared the Gun Runners I saw someone leaning up against the booth, the figure spotted me and immediately straightened, as I got closer I knew it was him, the shades and red 1st recon beret kinda stood out. He didn't say anything as I stopped outside of the booth. "Greetings sir or madam..." the sales bot rambled on, I turned to it and pointed a .308 caliber Sniper Rifle ammot and paid, also buying a shitload of other ammo. I had a duffle bag on my back, which I shrugged off, it had an array of weapons, from a 9mm pistol, sawn-off shotgun to a machete. The bag also contained food, water, two spare pairs of clothes and some tools and devices and stimpacks. My Pipboy had everything else. I put some of the ammo away and pulled out my pistol and slid it into its holster. I zipped up the bag and slipped it back on,  attaching the custom strap to my sniper rifle and slung that over my shoulder. I pushed my goggles down so they hung around my neck, I wouldn't be needing them anytime soon. "Boone." I said, not bothering to give any fancy greeting. "Mason." he replied. He has a low, husky kind of voice, it was kinda hot. He knew my name, he was probably informed, like I was. "Let get moving." I said. I brushed past him, glancing at my Pipboy. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back. "We're not going anywhere." he said, his voice stern. I raised my brow. "Any why the fuck not?" I said, trying to keep my cool. Who was he to say we could or could not go? I've been in the NCR longer than he has, he's be out of action for the past few years. I joined when I was finally old enough, my parents were NCR, so my brother and I decided to follow in their footsteps. He would've been a year older than Boone this year.

"Because. It's nearly dark and it's dangerous to around The Strip at night. Almost as dangerous as being out in the Mojave." he said. He had a point, but still.

"Where do you suggest we go then?" I asked. He sighed. "I've heard about Vault 21, maybe we can stay there for the night, or the Embassy." he suggested, I snorted. "Yeah, you obviously haven't heard of the nut job who runs Vault 21, as for the Embassy, I'm not staying in that shit hole." I said. He sighed again. "I've got a tab in The Atomic Wrangler. We can get rooms and a drink down at the bar." I said. "I don't drink." was all he said. "Whatever." I muttered. I headed back towards the South Entrance. We passed through free side easy enough, people ducking for cover when they saw us. The NCR weren't exactly loved by the people of free side and gave us a wide berth. We turned right down towards the Wrangler, eyeballing a guard outside of The Silver Rush. I didn't like that place, or the Van Graffs. Tricky bunch, them and their energy and plasma weapons. I pushed the door to the Wrangler open, old country music filled the air. A few ghouls sat around a table, playing poker, a lone man drank at the bar and another ghoul stood in a circle of light upon the stage. I walked up to one of the Garret twins. "Mason." Francine said. "What'll be?"

I paid for two rooms. "You go ahead and sleep or do what ever you do. I'm going to have a few drinks." I said to Boone. I said, dumping my stuff in my room, his next to mine, he just shook his head and went into his room. I headed down to the bar and ordered a few shots.

 


	2. Here We Go

  
I woke to a banging on my door. "Get up Mason." Boone yelled through the door.

"Yeah yeah, don't get your panties in a twist." I muttered.

I wasn't a morning person, never was. I threw the blankets off of me and shuddered. I slipped my shirt over my head and struggled with my pants, hopping on one foot; with my grogginess I failed to see my shoe and tripped, landing hard on my ass.   
"Mason?!." Boone burst through the door, his face blank after a moment of what looked like concern.   
He stood there looking down at me.   
"What are you doing?"  
I snorted. "The fuck does it look like I'm doing - I tripped. What are you doing?"  
"I thought, maybe..." He trailed off, eyes still on me, "I'll see you downstairs."

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

It was stupid, but that didn't stop the red from creeping into his cheeks. It's been a while since he'd seen a woman in such a state of undress.

Not since Carla. He'd tried once; with the old world whiskey in his veins he'd stopped by Gomorrah, he remembers a girl with a ridiculous name. He remembers crying, being comforted by the prostitute. He'd paid her double after he'd woken up hours later.  
He hadn't been back to the strip since; he'd been relieved when Mason had suggested staying at the Wrangle though Freeside made him just as uncomfortable.

Mason; he didn't catch her first name, he'd only heard of the opportunity from Manny, who was reluctant to take the job. After Boone had shown the slightest bit of interest, Manny had put his name down. To say he was surprised was an understatement, especially when they'd only told him to go wait for Ranger Mason out front of the Gun Runners.   
He'd be lying if he said he didn't find her attractive, her light hair and shocking blue eyes, Mojave roughened skin and no-bullshit attitude; she was everything Carla wasn't and yet, he found himself looking to her.   
He was jerked out of his reverie when a door slammed nearby.

Boone gathered his things and headed down stairs.

Mason sat at the bar, shoveling Nightstalker eggs into her mouth.   
"It's 0715 Mason. I wanted to be outta here by 0600. " he told her. "Zion s'not goin' anywhere." she muttered around a mouthful. Mason shoveled the last forkful of eggs into her mouth and patted her stomach in content; she sat and fiddled with her Pipboy while he waited patiently.   
She stood, slinging her rifle over one shoulder, duffle bag over the other. "Fine, Let's move out then. But just so you know it's not good to do so much walking after you've just eaten."

They left the Atomic Wrangler, hearing Mason mutter "Here we go."

\-----

I looked at the map on my Pipboy. "We should head out through Freeside's North Gate, It's closer to the Northern Passage." I said.   
He came over and peered at my Pipboy.  
"Why not follow this road out of Freeside, then up to the right, then find a path that'll take us to the Northern Passage." he said.  
I looked at him, incredulous, I shook my head. "You don't get out much do you?" I muttered. I traced the bold orange line from Freeside to the top right corner of the New Vegas map. "This road, leads up to the Nellis Air Force Base, with the Boomers." I said.  
He looked at me blankly.   
"The Boomers blow up anyone who get close to their base, they have heavy artillery and who knows what else, they never leave. Though I can't say I blame them. You don't want to go up that road, trust me." I explained.   
Boone ingested the information and after a moment he nodded.   
"Let's do it your way then."

\---------------------------------------------------------------

We walked under the old overpass and followed the road. "We'll follow this road North for as long as we can, then we can head North West." I informed Boone.

Unfortunately the road didn't go very far before it went off East. Instead, I spotted a road that'd take us West, then we'd just have to venture away from the road later on.

Once parallel with our destination we turned North. A faint worn trail lead up past some boulders. I followed the path, keeping a hand on my pistol. It lead us up into a small clearing and the the right was an unmarked grave; straight ahead was the tunnel aptly named, "NORTHERN PASSAGE".

It was dimly lit inside, and cold considering the hellish wastes that lie just outside.   
The tunnel was a long one, after three hours of walking and multiple rest stops we found what we were looking for.   
The steep descent down into the Zion was covered in blood.


	3. Lost in the Canyon

Three - Lost in the Canyon

  
-Mason's POV- 

"Well,  _shit._ " I muttered. The tunnel was dark, but some light from the opened door reflected off the pools of blood. I switched on my Pipboy light, though it only lit up to three meters or so, the rest of the tunnel stretched on in darkness. "Maybe its Brahmin blood? Molerat? Or maybe they had a blood orgy?" Boone ignored the last part. "It doesn't smell too bad, so I'm guessing a few days old, or older due to lack of air or sun." He observed. I had to give him credit, I may have been in the NCR longer than he was, but the rumors were true; he was a legend, a hardened one. He motioned for me to move along the passage, he followed suit. We traveled in our small sphere of light for what seemed like eternity, when eventually the passage became brighter. I switched my Pipboy off and drew out my pistol, keeping it at the ready. The passage was barely wide enough to fit Boone and I shoulder to shoulder, the exit had caved slightly.

Boone squeezed past me, his chest brushed against my back, making me shiver. He took point and stepped out into the blinding light of the Zion Canyon, dry wind blowing around my feet, sending up a cloud of dust; I squinted and slid my goggles on. I blinked a few times before I could see properly and took in the scene in front of me. There were natural stairs that lead down from the Northern Passage and down further into the Canyon, off to the left was a small, ruined encampment surrounded by dead Brahmin and what I assumed to be the rest of the Happy Trails Caravan. Further on lie an old rope bridge leading across a gaping chasm to the opposite side of the canyon. The wind blew again, this time sending over the scent of decomposing corpses. I put my hands on my knees and dry heaved a few times, my stomach convulsing at the smell. Boone's face contorted with disgust and anger, but the smell didn't seem to effect him as badly.  _Poor bastard must me remembering Bitter Springs._ I'd seen the incident report in his profile but didn't think much of it, until I heard a few people at the Wrangler talking about it. I was thankful that Boone was up in his room, If he'd heard some of the shit the guys were gossiping about, I think he would've lost it then and there. I quickly recovered, though my stomach was still twisted in knots, and slid my scarf over my nose and mouth to block out some of the smell.

Boone lead us down the worn trail down to the sight of the massacre. The Brahmin packs hadn't been touched, neither had any of the other cargo that were lying around. "An unprovoked attack?" I asked Boone. He crouched down and looked closely at a nearby body, one that was decapitated. "They're sloppy, most likely the handiwork of savages." He grunted.   
Boone stood and went to reach for something on the ground when a sudden flash out of the corner of my eye had me springing into action. I launched myself at Boone, grabbing him by the shoulders and dragging him slightly before pushing him to the ground, behind the wreck of the Brahmin trailer. I landed on top of him - _hard_ , the extra weight of my duffel gave me more weight and force. He groaned and wheezed, winded from the force and looked up at me, his shades and beret having been knocked from his head. For the first time I had a good look at Boone, drinking in his features. He had his dark hair shaven close to the head, a buzz cut. His brows, which were scrunched together, were relatively thin, unlike most men with their bushy brows. Thick lashes framed his hazel eyes and his bow shaped lips were screwed up in a grimace. _Holy shit, he's attractive. Alt_ hough we were in danger, the moment was somewhat comfortable...until I had to put my foot in my mouth.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you that your face would freeze if you kept pulling those faces?" I was an idiot, but it was the first thought that came into my head, seeing as his brows were furrowed and mouth twisted down in distaste. I gasped in surprise as he grasped me around the waist and rolled on top of me, my shoulder painfully wedged between him and my duffle; I just hoped all the safeties were on in there... Boone reached behind him and unstrapped his rifle and moved to straddle my waist before peaking up over the top of the wooden trailer. He scanned the area and grunted. "There's two on the ridge and another one down by the bridge," He whispered to me. "they're looking for us."  He looked back down at me and I almost cringed at what he must have saw. A woman, covered in dirt and grime with a flushed face and gaping mouth.  _Yeah, you're an idiot Mason._ I couldn't deny that despite the danger, I was perfectly comfortable with staying like this. 

He moved to kneel near the end of trailer, putting some space between us. "I'll cover you while you run for the passage, once you're up there, you'll be in a good position to cover me." He spoke in low, rushed words. I shook my head, "No way, we came here to find the distress signal and I'll be damned if we quit." I snapped, throwing his shades and beret at him. He threw me an annoyed look before shoving them back on. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke, his abrupt tone startling me. "Fine, have it your way Mason. I'll take the two on the ridge, you take the one near the bridge." I smirked with satisfaction. I grabbed my rifle and loaded it up, before lying on the ground and slowly moving out of cover to line up my shot. "When you're ready." I said. Boone shot first, his shot echoing throughout the canyon, which distracted my target. I took him down, my silenced rifle seeming like a mouse to Boone's. We waited a few moments, just in case there were any others and when the area was clear we both stood, looking about. "You know, you really should have a silencer on that rifle, Boone." I advised him. He just frowned at me. "Why? The sound just echoed around the Canyon, if there's any others, they won't be able to pinpoint the sound." He stated. I grabbed my duffle and slung it over my shoulder, making my way towards the questionable bridge. "That's my point, they still heard it, and everything else in this canyon. Not to mention whatever killed the 'Happy Trails Caravan'." I stood in front of the bridge, wary of the added weight of my duffle and hoped to God it could hold out.

Boone grabbed my arm and spun me around. "What do you mean 'whatever killed them'? We just shot the fuckers then." He grunted. I pried his fingers from my arm and snorted. "It's like you said, the blood in the passage had to be a few days old or so and the Caravan hadn't been ransacked even though the 'fuckers who did it' were right there, they didn't seem interested in the shit they had. Also, I tackled you because one of them threw a machete at us which seemed pretty sharp to me," I recalled the roughly severed head and the machete that was buried in the ground right where Boone had been. "You were right about the brutality of it all, but wrong about the culprit." I was out of breath after by little rant. I searched Boone's face for any sight of acknowledgement, but he still frowned down at me. "The what did you think it was that did this?" He said. I shrugged. "I thought maybe Legion," I looked over at the dead body, but there was no sign of any Legion colours, instead it was scarcely clothed and had white markings over its body. "but it's too far North. So maybe a wild animal, or some other native to this area, besides, the distress beacon isn't here, my Pipboy has a limited map of the area, but its says it somewhere North, North East." He growled and yanked his hand out of mine, which I didn't know I still held until now, and began to cross the bridge. "Fine, have it your way Mason." I rolled my eyes. What was Boone's problem, besides a giant stick up his ass? I was just as eager to get out of this shit hole as he was, but the NCR in me told me to get the job done. 

 


	4. The Spine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: In the game, some of the locations aren't that far away and would - in real life - only take you a few hours or so to walk there; but for the sake of the story I'm pretending that all locations will take roughly a day to get to. There are also a lot of wild animals that want to kill you just for the fun of it that wander around in the Zion, but I've made them appear less frequent, for the story's sake.

Four - The Spine

 

It was hot. h\Hotter than I had anticipated; I'd stripped off my ranger coat and contemplated taking my pants off, though I think Boone would disagree. I wanted to sit in the shade, against the cool rock but they were littered with white paintings. They pictures reminded me of some stories from the Old World, about cavemen drawing their lives of boasting of stories or wars. These paintings were fairly simple, with strange heads and elongated bodies. They didn't really make any sense to me, but instead they made me wary of the savages out there.  
The quickening darkness took both Boone and me by surprise. We'd be following a track from the moment we crossed the rickety old bridge, fighting some Geckos along the way, almost losing my head to some of them; they were fast little bastards.  
On more than one occasion throughout our trek I'd tried to start up a conversation with Boone, but after a few futile attempts, I'd decided talking to a Yucca plant was easier. I hadn't been paying attention when I rammed straight into the back of Boone, whom didn't budge a bit. I grumbled and he hushed me. "Why are we stopping?" I asked. We could walk for a little longer, use up as much daytime as we could. "We can use that as a vantage point to find shelter for the night." He pointed to a large rock formation up ahead. The signposts labelled that we were now in a location named: The Spine. I added the coordinates to my Pipboy and trudged along after Boone.

 

In the distance a dozen or so Geckos could be seen, though the vantage point Boone had picked meant that they couldn't see us and we had the advantage of height to see them. We climbed up to the top of the point and looked out over the vast expanse of the Zion. "Don't suppose you happen to have binoculars in that bag of yours?" Boone asked in his gruff tone. I smirked and rummaged through my handy duffle bag and produced a pair of binoculars. I took a seat while Boone scanned the area; my eyes took in the scenery around me. The orange of the canyon and the green specks of plants every now and then contrasted with the darkening of the sky. A few stars had started to appear, twinkling away in that dark expanse. "There's some kind of Station over there, looks abandoned and there aren't any animals. Though I don't think we have the time to get there..." He trailed off, pondering the situation. I grabbed the binoculars and checked out the station over yonder and spotted a path that lead there, but it was a longer route and darkness was quickly falling. An idea suddenly occurred to me. "How about we rappel down the cliff face below us and cut straight across to the station?" Boone looked at me for a heartbeat (or at least I think he was looking at me, he still had those stupid shades on) and agreed with me.

 

We secured the rope I had from my duffle bag to a rock and rappelled down first, followed by my duffle, then Boone. Rappelling down the cliff had saved us more time than I'd thought, and within half an hour we were at Ranger Substation Peregrine; which was freaking me out. There was a large rock outside the Substation with white outlined hand prints all over it, and then there were red hand prints on the Substation itself. I wasn't sure if they were markers or warning, both made me uneasy. When I looked to Boone he had a calm exterior, seemingly unfazed by the creepy hand prints, his eyes were scanning our surroundings. He made for the stairs and I followed suit, praying that they didn't give way beneath me. Once we reached the lookout Boone inspected the horizon, checking for any immediate threats, once he deemed it clear he set himself down on a rusted old chair. "We'll set up camp here for the night, I'll take watch." He didn't say another word to me. I shifted an old desk out of the way and set my duffle bag down, using it as a pillow (silently praying all the safeties are on). Completely unaware of Boone's presence I started to strip, keeping my underwear on, and slid on my shorts and singlet. I turned to lay my ranger uniform out on the desk when I caught Boone staring at me, a few moments of awkward silence later and he looked away, my heart stuttered back to life. I dug around into my duffle until I found a thin rolled up blanket and spread it out beneath me, to provide some cushioning. I settled down on my makeshift bed, but found myself restless, rolling over to face Boone, who was stoically staring out at the canyon. I let my eyes feast on his profile, before feeling my eyes become droopy. "Wake me when it's my watch." I said. Boone remained silent, but tightened his hold on his rifle.   
  
\-------

"Give me a sec to wake up." I grumbled at the intrusion of my sleep. Boone shushed me and I was about to grumble 'asshole' back when my eyes focused on his tense figure. My hands reached for my duffle and grabbed the nearest gun I could find, which happened to be a pistol, and crouched next to Boone. "What-" He cut me off with a terse 'Quiet.' My eyes frantically searched the darkened scenery for any signs of a threat. I was about to ask him what he saw when my question was answered. There was a loud metallic thud which echoed off the walls of the canyon, followed by a bone rattling roar. "Shit!" I whispered. "What the _fuck_ was _that_?" Boone didn't speak until the echo has vanished and all was quiet once more. "Get some sleep Mason." his voice gruff. I wanted to object but he sent me a hard stare. I was startled to once again see his eyes unobstructed by sunglasses, his brown depths staring back at me. I didn't bother to argue with him and slid back into my 'bed'. As I drifted off I was vaguely aware of Boone slipping his jacket over me.

 

\-----------------

 

He hadn't meant to stare, but it was impossible not to, his eyes drawn to her feminine figure. There was nothing erotic about the way Mason removing her clothes; she herself was just was tempting. The way her clear eyes stared up at me, the sway of her body (more specifically her ass) when she walked, the creases that formed between her eyes when she was annoyed (more specifically with him), the way she showed her emotions on her face. He would often turn to see Mason deep in thought, her expressions varying, sometimes confused, bored, amused or his personal favorite - pissed off. They clashed heads, her anger butting against his, it made him uncomfortably hot. Boone couldn't help but rub his head in shame, thinking back to when shed saved him from a machete to the head, her hips straddling him, her beautiful eyes staring down at him. He was disgusted with himself, because he had enjoyed it, taking advantage of the situation, and because he wanted more.

 

Not much startled Boone, the exception being the horrendous bellow of some monstrous beast, wandering somewhere throughout the valley ( and possibly Mason). He immediately spurred into action, his eyes straining against the dark, though nothing was to be seen.

 


	5. North East

 

  
  
"You should have woken me." I grumbled sleepily.  
  
"You were dead to the world." He muttered annoyingly.   
  
He was annoying and stubborn and handsome; I couldn't deny it. He was good, great even, to look at, though he'd give me the stink eye each time he caught me staring.   
I'd awoken to the hot sun already on my back, later than we planned on leaving, with sweat already gathering on my brow. The sun was blazing in the Zion Valley, but when in the shade of the great canyon walls, it was almost chilly. I wasn't quite sure if I should be glad he let me sleep or pissed off he didn't wake me to get a head start on the harsh sun.   
  
I rolled up my gear, glancing over him I noticed he hadn't moved meaning he hadn't had any sleep. I shrugged on my clothes, deciding to leave my ranger jacket in my duffle, donning a tank top and pants. I contemplated chiding him for not sleeping, but I didn't need to put him in his bitchy mood; he was content at the moment, no need to poke the bear. We shared our rations, taking small sips or water for breakfast and decided to move on out. I fiddled around with my Pipboy while he scanned the horizon.   
  
"Where to?" He handed my binoculars to me and moved around behind my back. I turned to ask what the hell he was doing when he unzipped my duffle, pulling roughly on the straps. "Hey, yeah ow, attached to my body. You're giving my armpits whiplash." He grumbled as he rummaged around, something about hoping the safeties are on. Eventually he pulled something out and zipped it up, walking past me and down the stairs, the climbing ropes with him. I followed Boone out of the ranger station and down a small gully and over to a cliff. I peered over the edge and he rigged the gear to rappel down the face of the cliff to the ground below, right on the waters edge. I kept an eye out for any pesky Geckos while he lowered himself down. He hollered out to send my duffle down and I followed after. I landed on the soft bank, my boots sinking in and my mouth pulling down at the sides. The last thing I wanted was to get soaked; which turned out was unavoidable as we had to cross the river to get to wherever the hell he was taking us. I refused to go in fully clothed and stripped down to my briefs. And I mean stripped, teasingly. Boone may be annoying but by thunder he was attractive. Even when he was pissed off, usually at me. I don't think I've ever seen anyone whip their head away as Boone did when he saw me partially unclothed. He tore the duffle bag off my back and waded through the river, armor and all. I wasn't going to walking around in wet clothes and chafing. The water had come up to mid waist, which I had to roll up my tank top, which Boone was not around for. When I got to the other side he spared a glance at me, dropping my duffle at my feet as I dried off. I wasn't quite sure if it was a blessing or a curse that I'd worn black briefs and not white ones. I slipped back into my pants and followed Boone up the embankment and into what appears to be a campground, filled with old world vehicles and campers. I looked around the place and noticed a board on the ground, covered in dirt. I knelt down and picked it up and scraped away the grime to see letters beneath reading: 'Virgin Fork Campground.' I added the location to my Pipboy and thew the sign on the ground. Boone turned to face me, a scowl on his face. I shrugged at him. "What?" Ass. He shook his head. "Quiet." was his reply. I then noticed he was on alert and felt extremely stupid. What a ranger I was turning out to be. I was determined to push Boone to the brink all so I could see what was under that armor and I failed to notice both the eerie presence of the place and the smell of rotting flesh. "Shit." I muttered, earning another glare from Boone. I pulled out my pistol and cautiously followed Boone. I glanced at my Pipboy, which indicated that we were still heading in the right direction; North East. Boone had strayed of the the left and I was prepared to run after him until I saw a severed leg a few feet away. "Boone!" I whispered sharply. He turned his attention to me and saw what I was looking at. An old world car had been flipped over, its exterior was littered with large claw marks. In the space where the car once was were two completely mangled bodies, covered with leaves and white markings. "Tribal folk." He murmured, leaning down to inspect them. Their torsos had been ripped open, their innards removed, leaving behind a leg, foot and meaty rib cage. "What the fuck did this?" He stood and inspected the car next when it clicked in my head. The noise from last night. "Holy shit. Do you think that an animal did this? Maybe a super mutated Gecko?" Boone ignored my rambling. "Which direction is the transmitter coming from?" I pointed over the ridge. "North East, not far now. I think there's a bridge somewhere that we pass, maybe its coming from there?" He didn't say anything and headed in the direction I pointed out. 

As the day bore on, the heat increased and soon I asked - well, demanded - that we stop for a break in the cool shade of the canyon walls. We stopped and I dumped my duffle bag on the ground and slouched against the chilled wall and ate our MRE's. Once I had my temperature under control we collected ourselves and moved on; an hour or so later we came to a bridge. "Should we cross?" I asked him, wary of any traps the tribals or anyone else might have set for us. "Which direction?" I checked my Pipboy, which still said to go North East, I informed Boone, who decided it'd be best we crossed slowly. Boone took point, making sure to test each board and threw a few stones up ahead to clear any mines or traps that were set. We crossed the bridge unharmed without seeing a single trap, which again I couldn't decide if it were a good thing, or a bad thing. Boone continued to follow the road, however my Pipboy was telling me to hook a left. I reached out for his arm, pulling him back which successfully pissed him off. "What." He snapped. "Okay, first, tone down the attitude. Second, we have to go left, but you're welcome to continue on. Third, the transmitter is close, so keep your eye out." I did my best to look pissed off, but mostly I was just turned on by his angry scowl. Seriously, it shouldn't be attractive and it was probably a breach of personal space when I grabbed his arm and I was being a little bit sassy, but hey, the guy had looks and a rough edge which was starting to drive me crazy. Boone's shoulders relaxed a little, but he still scowled and I couldn't see his eyes through those stupid fucking glasses. "Lead the way." I, reluctantly, let go of his arm and took point, using the Pipboy to guide me.   
It wasn't long before my Pipboy alerted me that the transmitter was within a five meter radius, which had me puzzled. "Apparently, we're almost right on top of it." We had came to a dead end, with the path leading to the bridge behind us and a short drop to the river below on our left and straight ahead. A gaping cave entrance was to the right, along with a high wall of rock. I dropped my duffle bag on the ground and started to look around. It was a game of Marco Polo, except no one was answering back. After a good 10 minutes searching around, over the cliff and inside the small cave, which stunk of wet dog and piss, I managed to find it, wedged between two rocks. I could see the glint of a screen down below and reached down, my hands grasping at something. With a few grunts and tugs I managed to pull the transmitter free and dropped it like it was irradiated. "Mother of Mercy!" I yelped. We'd found the transmitter; it was a chewed up Pipboy attached to a slightly more chewed up arm. "What the fuck is going on?" I went to reach for the transmitter to attempt to detach it from the 'arm' when I heard the most menacing, pants shitting growl I'd ever heard. If Boone wasn't right in front of me I'd have thought it was him. I went to straighten up and turn to face the source of the bowel emptying growl when something knocked me off my feet, ramming into me from the left. Pain exploded across the right side of my body. I was knocked flat on my back, losing consciousness within seconds. 

 


	6. Sorrows

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Boone prided himself in being the sharpest eye in the Mojave. So why the fuck didn't he see the gigantic creature creeping up on them, ready to take a swipe at Mason? Because he was too busy pining over her like a love struck boy. She was beautiful, he wasn't going to deny it. His heart tugged a little whenever he looked at her, though he wasn't sure if it was because he felt guilty about Carla or if it was just the effect Mason had on him. It had all happened so fast. The giant bear like creature launched itself at Mason, its huge meaty claw raking across Masons chest and ribs, batting her away like a rag-doll. She was out as soon as she hit the ground. Boone dived for the duffle bag, behind the beast and tore it open, grabbing the sawn-off shotgun. He unloaded two shells into the what he thought was the face of the beast, he was too focused on trying to get to Mason. The beast let out an enraged roar, rearing back on its hind legs. While it was distracted, Boone made a dash for Mason, shoving his arms under her and hauling her up. The beast was yowling, its eyes zeroing in on them, and the only way out was behind the monstrous creature. Boone backed up, teetering on the edge of the short cliff, the river lapping at the sand below. Boone made his decision as soon as the beast made a move towards them.   
Boone let himself fall, tightening his grip on Mason and sending out a silent prater that there weren't any rocks or shallow water below. The water enveloped them, drenching him instantly. His feet hit the bottom, the soft sand thankfully breaking his fall, and he pushed up, breaking back through the surface. He moved to float on his back, looking up at the beast on the edge of the cliff, roaring at him down below. He struggled to keep Masons head above the water, his heavy armor dragging him down. His strong legs were kicking, trying to move them towards the beach. They floated down the river a bit before Boone managed to drag himself across the damp sand, drying to keep Masons profusely bleeding wound clean. He shrugged off his wet armor and moved to address Masons wounds. They were bad. The claws had raked across the right side of her body, under her breast and down to her hip. Bits of skins were where they weren't supposed to be, blood was oozing out and it was dark red, which meant that somehow the claws hadn't nicked an artery. There was also some black gunk inside the wound, which filled him with dread; it was possibly poison from the animals claws. "Shit, SHIT." He checked Masons airways, relieved to find she was breathing. He tore a strip of cloth from his white undershirt, dipping it in water he attempted to clean the gaping scratches in her side, dabbing around the wound, removing some of the gunk and sand. He'd lost his pack to the water, now long gone downstream, and had nothing to sanitize her wounds with. "Shit." He fussed around some more with her wounds until he heard some noises above him. He grabbed the rifle he'd had strapped to his back, praying that the rounds weren't waterlogged and crouched over Mason, preparing himself to kill the beast before it finished her off; kill or be killed. Boone wasn't sure if he should have been relieved or anxious when figures appeared at the top of the rise, their dark skin spattered with white markings.  
They were muttering in a language he didn't understand and kept his rifle pointed at them. They, the tribals alike the ones he'd seen in the campground, appeared to be arguing between themselves. There were five of them in total, two were men and the other three were females. One of the woman started down the bank, slowly moving with her hands outstretched saying repeatedly: "Yao Guai." He kept his rifle trained on her, unwilling to let her much closer. She kept speaking in a tongue he couldn't understand." _Holadu, Tsagasee, b_ _aje ka armoo._ " The woman patted her head and said "Oona Whitestalk. Oona." Boone may have been an army grunt, but he wasn't an idiot. He lowered his rifle, only slightly, and looked at the injured woman below him. "Mason." The tribal woman nodded seeming to understand. He sighed reluctantly, but lowered the weapon and pointed to himself. "Boone." The woman repeated their names and withdrew something from her belt and looked to Mason. "Yao Guai poison. Kills fast. Heal now." She said. Boone was a little unnerved by her ability to speak English, as broken as it was, and deducted that the mutated bear creature that attacked Mason was named 'Yao Guai'. The woman, Oona, opened up the small sack in her hand and motioned toward Mason. Boone moved away, allowing the Oona to assess Mason's injuries. Oona didn't touch her at first, mostly looked around the wound from differently angled before gently lifting up Mason's shredded shirt. Oona tsked before calling out to the rest of the group up ahead. Boone has been too busy watching the tribal woman and Mason to notice that the rest of them had made a makeshift stretcher from branches and strips of plant and bark. The two men came down the embankment with the stretcher and chatted to the woman while she dipped her hand inside the bag and sprinkled white powder on the wound, covering it. Once she was done, the two men grabbed Masons arms and legs and tentatively lifted her onto the stretcher. They effortlessly took her up the embankment and set her down on some rock. Boone had grabbed his soaking armor and kept his rifle close.

He jumped when Oona patted him on the shoulder, once again too engrossed in Mason and her well being. Oona pointed to Mason and shook her head. "Needs more healing. Come follow. We know a place to rest and heal." Boone didn't really have a choice. Mason desperately needed help which he couldn't provide now that he'd lost his pack. The didn't have any food either, though perhaps he could use his rifle to kill a Gecko, risk both radiation and attracting the 'Yao Guai' with fresh kill. Boone simple nodded and removed Masons pistol and rifle, which had somehow managed to survive the attack and the fall. They hoisted Mason off the ground and moved off in single file, with Boone right behind Mason and Oona behind him. They were at the mercy of the tribals now.   
  
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They'd been walking most of the day, taking breaks in between to eat, rest and swap carrying duties. The women were strong and hardy, carrying Mason with ease. The sometimes suddenly stopped, dropping down low to avoid a pack of Geckos or Cazadors; the latter he loathed with a passion. It was growing dark when Boone spotted a building in the distance. They picked up the pace now that their distination was in sight. The men grumbled to each other and took up watch outside the Zion Fishing Lodge, one on the roof and another around the side. The women maneuvered Mason up the stairs and inside the lodge. The interior of the lodge was is surprisingly good condition. A pool table sat in the middle of the room, near the entrance. Around the room were couches and chairs and tables, with a bar toward the back. Boone made a b-line to the bar and searched for any spirits which he could use to clean Masons wounds. He found a bottle of vodka with barely enough inside it but he'd take whatever he could get. The women took Mason around the bar and into a room he hadn't seen. When Boone made a move to follow the woman, Oona, shoved him back and shook her head. "Stay. Sleep." Boone tried to argue but she cut him off. " _Deha ruido!_ We must work, no men. You need sleep." Boone wanted to argue, but couldn't deny Mason the medical attention she badly needed. The tribals had managed to stop most of the bleeding, however Mason's complexion was pale and still hadn't regained consciousness. " _Uweka duerme!_ " Oona said. Boone finally caved and took a seat on one of the couches surrounding a fireplace. From here he could see the women had taken Mason into the bathroom and had begun their work on her. Boone caught a glimpse of the grizzly sight before Oona closed the door. The adrenaline high that Boone had been on all day was coming to an end; exhaustion was setting in. Reluctantly, he spread his armor over the back of the nearby chairs, leaving it to dry and grabbed a cushion to pillow his head. It wasn't long before he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.   
  
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" _Powee desafortuba..._ " Boone was roused by the hushed murmurs of the tribal women and the crackling of the fire. Boone pried his eyes open, rubbing at the kink in his neck. The women glanced him and two of them departed, slipping out of the door and leaving him with Oona. For a moment, his blood ran cold. "Where is she?" Oona was cleaning her bloodied hands. "She is well, still sleeps deeply." Relief flooded through him, making him light headed. "What did you do?" He asked. Oona stood and moved to sit before the fire, in front of him. "Wounds weren't great. Poison still runs in blood, that will take a moon to run its course." Wounds weren't great. Boone had seen the Yao Guai's claws rip across her flesh, tearing it apart. Surely there had to have been some excessive damage. "Show me." He grunted. Oona looked reluctant, but eventually stood and led him to the bathroom where they'd treated her. The women had positioned Mason above the bath, letting the water and blood drip down the drain. As he approached her he let out a breath he's been holding. She'd regained some colour, however she wasn't in the clear yet; Oona had said she hadn't regained consciousness. Boone observed as Oona fussed about Mason, rechecking her bandages which crisscrossed her torso. Boone had originally thought that the wounds had been deep but Mason couldn't possibly have survived. "Not too deep, only shallow, only skin not muscle - praise Father. Much scarring when healed." Boone noticed sutures beneath the bandage as Oona applied some more powder. "Healing will be long - not much movement. Yao Guai poison takes long time to heal. Regular potion will wash out poison."    
Boone's eyes traced over her body, the claws had thankfully only torn through skin tissue and not muscle, though her movement would still be restricted to avoid pulling the stitches. "How did you learn to stitch someone up?" He inquired. Oona had packed her things away and placed a cool cloth over Masons head and covered her torso with a thin sheet, preserving her modesty. Boone had averted his eyes, noticing that her shirt and bra were destroyed. Oona ushered him back to the fire and he seated himself at one of the couches. "Dead Horses teach. Their leader, the man who burned learned us healers. The Burned Man teaches many things." The Burned Man? The name sounded foreboding. 

 


	7. Delusions

A/N: I made up a little lore in regards to the Sorrows, such as their beliefs and such. Please  remeber to vote, comment and share - it'd really help me out. Enjoy!

  
Boone was awoken by one of the other female tribe members who steered him toward a table filled with meat. He didn't ask nor care what the meat was and dug in, his hand stiff from holding Masons while he slept. The women tended to Mason, applying some ointment, redressing some wounds and feeding her a paste. Oona joined him for a light meal while the other women prepared Mason for travel. Oona had informed him that they would be moving on toward their home camp, where Mason could spend the next month recovering, as much as Boone was worried about overstaying their welcome in the Valley, he knew that Mason needed their help. Boone finished his meal and helped carry Mason out of the door and throughout the morning.

Halfway through the day the Sorrows had began to chatter among themselves before stopping to discuss something. One of the men had taken point and was leading them toward a overhanging rock, setting Mason down in the shade. Boone had just turned to question Oona when he heard a noise so loud we swore it rattled the very teeth inside his skull. He was on high alert, his rifle at the ready, eyes wildly searching for any danger. Beside him Oona said "Baje ka armoo. Calm. It is the gift from the father to us." Oona put a reassuring hand on Boone shoulder and directed his attention skyward.

He wasn't an idiot, he knew what rain was, however he's never actually seen rain before. He's never seen grey clouds hanging in the sky; their bellies filled with water. To see water fall so freely from the sky - it was almost frightening. He soon realized that the booming sound was that of thunder, two clouds crashing together, or as Oona called it: the battle of the Yao Guai - Makkon and Serren. Boone had set the canteens down on the ground to collect rain as Oona and the other tribe members told him stories of their people. Makkon and Serron were once two great Yao Guai who battled over territory and the story of the great Father. Boone didn't invest in what they were saying but listened nevertheless.

Whilst they waited for the rain to pass, he learnt their names. The taller woman was named Running Wind and the shorter was Smooth Leaf. The older of the males, with weathered hands was Left Claw and the younger one, who Boone realized was his son, was Black Sand. Boone noticed something else, in and around the Valley. Green. Lots of it. He'd been so absorbed in his woes, so focused on Mason and the mission that he'd failed to notice the green of the land. There were trees scattered throughout the canyon, some big and some small. Other small shrubs and plants grew around the waters edge. It was like an oasis, a dream; it the place wasn't so hostile and primitive, Boone had thought that he could make a home here. He'd noticed that he also didn't have the coppery taste in his mouth he usually got when approaching irradiated areas or creatures. Soon after their stories died down and so did the rain, allowing them to move on.

Night had fallen roughly an hour ago before they finally reached camp, the rain having set them back. They'd be spending the night in the Sorrows Fork Campground, slightly more exposed than Boone would have liked.   
With Mason safely tucked away in one of the old world campers and her wounds being tended to, Boone had time to sit and study the natives.

"Who are you?" He asked Oona.   
She looked at him blankly. "Have you got your head?" She asked him.   
He shook his head, "I know your name, but where are you from? Where are you taking us? You mentioned other Tribes? Why all the paintings?" He questioned.   
Oona stopped poking and the fire and moved a little closer to him.  
"I am Oona Whitestalk from the Sorrows camp, north of here, to there we will take your friend to heal. We have a good healer there, but it will take time, our supplies are few." She said, her eyes searching.   
"As for the murals that you have seen, some our stories of our battles against the White Legs, a tribe of murders and butchers from the Great Salt Lake. They have come into our land to take all we have from us." Oona said with surprising viciousness; he hoped shed never have a reason to speak of him like such.   
"Others mark sacred places of the Father, some warnings of dangerous creatures and others on places of taboo." She answered.   
Boone frowned.   
"Taboo? The only places I've seen them on are the old world buildings..." He said.  
Oona nodded.   
"Yes. The tribesmen stay away from your 'old world' places, believing them to be cursed and such." She said.   
"Then why did we spend the night inside the fishing lodge?" He asked, puzzled.   
Oona shrugged.   
"I am from Sorrows, we are a tribe of great faith, in our Father and the God of Canaan, the Dead Horse tribe, the others you see here, are also faith but not as much as Sorrows."  
Boone looked to the other tribe folk, the Dead Horses, who had indeed looked somewhat uncomfortable but determined.   
"If you are from the Sorrows then why did you go inside the building?" He said.   
"I am not fearful of curses, not anymore."  
He decided to to press her, it seemed like a personal matter he'd rather not insult, instead he asked:  
"Were you following us that day?" He turned to her.   
She shook her head.   
"No, we were close when we heard Yao Guai."   
She explained.   
"What were you doing out here? I haven't seen many tribals at all, save from the ones which ambushed us at the entrance to Zion, who I gather are he White Legs."  
She nodded. "Makes sense. White Legs want us cut off from help, easier to destroy us." She murmured.   
"You haven't answered my question." He said.  
She looked to him, sighing through her nose.  
"We are the ones who were sent to gather supplies, from your old world of places." She said, still cryptic.   
"What supplies and why?"   
Oona looked over to the Dead Horses, two of which were asleep. She scooted a little closer to him.   
"We are preparing to leave this place, the Zion, or so Daniel plans." She said, as though now it all made sense.   
"Who is Daniel?" He blurted, wary of thinning her patience, but she did not appear irritated by all the questions.   
"Daniel leads Sorrows, teaches us your speaking and his ways of faith. Daniel is a disciple of New Canaan, along with Joshua Graham; both lead us against the White Legs. Daniel wants to leave, Joshua plans to stay and fight. A hard choice to make."  
Boone hesitated.   
Joshua Graham.   
He'd heard that name before.  
Boone would have continued on with his questions if not for Mason crying out.   
He was in his feet in an instant, hearing Oona talk to the others who had been startled awake.   
He went to her side, noting the wild look in her now open eyes and hair plastered to her face. She moved about jerkily, though not so much as to cause further harm to herself, not yet anyway.   
"Mason, it you can hear me you need to relax, you'll hurt yourself." He said, loud and clear.   
Oona appeared next to him.  
"What is wrong with her?" He growled.  
"Poison, it is in her mind. Her eyes deceive her."  
She was delusional.  
Mason's eyes were glazed over, hands shaking and muttering nonsensical things.   
He took her hand in his, thumb rubbing across her knuckles. He'd stayed like that by her side through the night, listening to her ramble. Most of the time it was intelligible, though he'd heard his name once and she had said 'Six' multiple times.   
She'd quietened down by dawn, his eyes sliding closed as the sun rose.

 

A/N: I may be going back to rewrite some of the earlier chapters because I'm not happy with them. Feel free to point out and spelling and grammar mistakes.


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